Bonus Prologue

BONUS PROLOGUE

S pring 1305, Mhairi's House of Pleasure

Isle of Harris, Scottish Western Isles

"Dinnae look now, Emily, but I reckon that's the brawest feller I've ever laid eyes on in me life just come in!" whispered Raven MacDonald, neé MacNeil, to her fellow maid, nudging her in the ribs. Emily looked up at once and took in the tall, broad figure with short, pale-gold hair standing in the doorway.

"Och, aye, he's dreamy," she breathed, her mouth falling open as she stared at the newcomer.

"I told ye nae tae look! And stop starin' at him like that," Raven hissed, stifling a giggle with one hand while absently wiping at the table top with a damp cloth with the other.

"Why should I? Ye're starin'," Emily pointed out, not taking her eyes off the blond-haired man as he strode in on long, muscular, leather-clad legs and shut the door behind him.

Raven could not deny it. Since the man had come in, she had been transfixed by his powerful physique and rough, masculine beauty. "Look at his hair. 'Tis so lovely and thick and fair, like spun gold. And look at his muscles and his scars," she whispered admiringly as strange chills such as she had never felt before ran up and down her spine. "He's gorgeous. He looks like a fearsome warrior."

"Aye, he is."

Raven gasped and tore her eyes from the blond godlike man long enough to glance at her friend. "Ye ken who he is?"

"Aye, of course I dae! Ye must be the only person on Harris who daesnae recognize him," Emily replied.

Raven frowned a little at that. She had very good reasons for never straying too far from the house, and she seldom ventured into the nearby village. It was safer that way. But she said nothing.

Emily continued. "But this is the first time I've seen him come in here."

"Who is he then?" Raven asked, unable to stop looking at the man as she pretended to mop the table. He had light-colored eyes, which flickered about the room, taking in the bevy of painted courtesans and their male clientele already occupying the luxuriously furnished salon.

"Why, 'tis Arne MacLeod, Laird Haldor's younger braither," Emily told her, getting on with her job of loading used crockery onto a tray.

The laird's braither? Raven, feeling unaccountably excited by his presence, watched covertly while Madam Morag glided over to greet MacLeod, an ingratiating smile plastered on her painted old face. Morag was tall for a woman, but the blond warrior dwarfed her. He was huge!

The two chatted in low voices for a few minutes, clearly discussing business. Straining her ears, Raven could hear the low, deep rumble of his voice. The sound made goosebumps rise all over her skin.

"Wait until ye get close enough tae see his eyes. All the girls would give their right arms tae get him intae bed. Wish ye were one of them, d'ye?" Emily smiled teasingly at Raven as she hurried off back to the kitchen with her tray.

Raven moved on to the next table, but her attention was on MacLeod and the courtesans who were eyeing him up with frank appreciation, giggling, thrusting out their breasts, practically licking their lips. Raven was well aware that in comparison to their usual clientele he was a choice morsel. She suspected that if not for Morag's stern presence, the girls would have fought each other to be the one to take him to bed, without charging a penny. And the way Raven felt, for the first time in her life, just looking at him, strange tingles racing all over her body, she thought she understood why.

Before she had come to work at Mhairi's, she had never really understood how a woman could want a man so much. She was not a virgin, but she had lain with only one man in her life, a cold, soulless man who repulsed her in every way.

So, to catch herself imagining what this MacLeod would look like without his clothes on shocked her to her core. And now, seeing the way each of the girls was trying to tempt him into choosing to lay with them, she felt a flash of jealousy. Why, that's absurd! I've only just laid eyes on him. How can I be jealous?

"Maeve," came a familiar voice, jolting her from her reverie.

"Aye," Raven replied, responding to the false name she had adopted to shield her from her past. She smiled up at Morag, while noticing from the corner of her eye that MacLeod was now seated at a cozy corner table near the roaring hearth, his long legs stretched out, his boots resting on the fender.

Morag's pinched, painted lips smiled back at her with a genuine warmth that was rare for her. "I see ye lookin' at that feller that's just come in. That's new," she said slyly. "And I dinnae blame ye. He's a fine specimen, eh? Why, if I was thirty years younger…" Her husky voice trailed off, and her faded eyes took on a faraway look for a moment. Then she snapped back into her professional self.

"He's the laird's braither, Arne MacLeod is his name."

"Aye, Emily said," Raven put in, trying not to keep looking at him.

"He's lookin' fer a lass tae spend the night with him, but he wants tae take his time choosin' which one. I'm tae tell the girls tae let him be fer a while, so he can have a look at what's on offer at his leisure. But he has plenty of money tae spend, so we must keep him sweet. I want ye tae serve him, and make sure he gets everything he wants," the madam ordered under her breath.

A fresh wave of excitement washed over Raven. "Aye, I will," she found herself saying with an unfamiliar eagerness.

"Good lass." Morag patted her shoulder and went off to speak to her girls. Raven heard soft expressions of disappointment from several of them as, with trembling fingers, she tucked her cleaning cloth in her apron pocket. She brushed down her skirts and straightened her cap, wondering why on earth she was bothering. I'm a maid, fer goodness sake, nae a courtesan out tae flirt with a man.

But for some odd reason, it suddenly felt important to do what little she could to present herself well. She straightened up, took a deep breath, summoned all her composure, and approached MacLeod's table.

He cooly watched her coming, and by the time she reached the table, Raven felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Close up, he was even more dazzling to look at. He had the fine, chiseled features of a classical statue from ancient times, with brown stubble that glinted with gold covering his squarish chin and thick golden-brown slashes for brows. But the most startling thing about him were his eyes.

Emily had been right about them, for Raven had never seen such beautiful eyes on a man, and she found herself staring helplessly into them, transfixed. They were a light, silvery-blue, like a blue wintry sky shining on crystals of ice. Their unwavering gaze seemed to pierce her to her soul.

When he smiled at her, revealing even, white teeth, her mouth went dry, and her heart began to pound, thump, thump, thump , beneath her bodice.

"Hello, lassie," he said, his lovely deep voice pouring over her like warm honey.

Pull yersel' together, ye silly goose, she silently chided herself, and get on with yer job. Somehow, she got control of herself enough to drop a small curtsey. "Good evenin' tae ye, Sir. May I bring ye somethin' tae drink, or perhaps ye're hungry?" she asked, returning his smile.

He leaned back in his chair, not taking his eyes from her face, and folded his arms. "I'm nae sure. What d'ye recommend?"

"Well, if ye're nae decided yet, then ye could start off with a tankard of ale or some wine or whisky if ye prefer, while ye make up yer mind."

"Good idea. What's the ale like here? If 'tis like gnats' piss, I'll give it a miss and have some wine instead."

Raven could not stop the laugh that slipped form her lips. She glanced around to check if Morag was listening before telling him in a low voice, "Well, I shouldnae say this, but ye're probably best off skippin' the ale and havin' the wine."

"And what's the wine like? Horse piss?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

This time, Raven snorted and chuckled. "'Tis nae too bad. I've tasted worse. And the whisky is quite good."

"I'll go fer the wine then and maybe move on tae the whisky later."

"Very well, Sir. I'll just go and fetch that fer ye." She went to the sideboard on the other side of the room. It was loaded with glasses, goblets, jugs, and drink and food of all kinds. She selected a flask of the finest wine they had and decanted it into a pewter jug.

This she carried back to him, along with a large goblet, and placed them on the table. "Would ye like me tae pour that fer ye, Sir?" she asked.

"Aye, if ye dinnae mind," he told her with a nod, his icy eyes dancing with something she could not name but which made her feel hot all over.

"Say when," she told him, lifting the jug and starting to pour the wine for him. She began to feel a little worried when it almost reached the brim before he said, "When."

Then he lifted the goblet to his firm, sculpted lips and, his eyes locked with hers, took a long sip of the ruby liquid. As he did so, Raven noticed his hands, large, tan, capable-looking, covered with fine golden hairs, and a network of scars. A warrior's hands. Yet he held the goblet delicately, with refinement.

The sight of his thick fingers delicately clamped around the stem of the goblet was oddly exciting, and she could not stop herself from wondering what it would be like to feel them upon her skin. She suspected they would feel far different from the cold ones she had known before.

He nodded his blond head and smiled approvingly. "Aye, that's nae bad at all. Thank ye fer yer recommendation," he said, placing the goblet back down. "Will ye come and join me fer a drink?"

Raven was startled by the unexpected invitation. "Och, nay," she said, hiding how flustered she was behind a small laugh. "Ye need tae speak tae Morag. She'll get one of the other lassies tae come and have a drink with ye if ye want some company."

"But I'm happy with the present company," he said, his strange eyes gleaming in the amber lamplight. She stared at him, at a loss as to what to say for a few moments, her whole body tingling. "What's yer name?" he asked suddenly.

"Maeve. Maeve Carter."

"Maeve. That's an awful pretty name."

Raven's cheeks flamed. "Thank ye, Sir."

"Me name's Arne, Arne MacLeod. How d'ye dae, Maeve?" He held out his enormous hand to her. She looked at it in disbelief for a moment, but then she reached out and took it.

"Very well. And yersel'?" she asked as his large, warm palm enclosed her hand. A shock like lightening rushed up Raven's arm at his touch. He shook her hand briefly and let it go, a trace of surprise on his face. She wondered if he had felt the strange sensation as well.

"Right as rain, lass, right as rain," he replied, giving her an indecipherable look. Raven suddenly became acutely aware of a peculiar tension hanging in the air between them. She had never experienced anything like it until then.

"Tell me, Maeve, what can a hungry man get tae eat around here?"

She struggled to compose herself. "That depends on what ye fancy," she heard herself say, only realizing after she had said it how coquettish it must have sounded. She blushed again. "I mean, how hungry ye are. We have bread and cheese and cured meats, or ye can have somethin' hot."

His golden-brown eyebrows shot up, and he grinned. "Somethin' hot, eh? And what might that be?"

Ye've done it again! Keep a check on yer tongue with this one. "Braised beef with carrots, tatties and neeps, or there's some roasted lamb, I believe," she explained, wondering how one man could have such an effect on her.

"Have ye had yer supper?" he asked.

"Erm, nae. I'll eat when me shift's over in an hour," she replied. Why is he even askin'?

"If I wait an hour, will ye come and join me fer dinner then?"

The request filled her with fresh consternation. Daes he nae understand the way things are done around here?

Remembering Morag's orders to give him whatever he wanted, she glanced around for the madam's help. Did "whatever he wants" include wining and dining the help? But Morag was otherwise engaged. So Raven looked back at him, smiled, and shook her head. "'Tis kind of ye tae ask, but ye must speak tae Morag about it," she told him again.

"Ach, all right. Let's nae beat about the bush. How much tae buy yer company fer the whole night?"

Raven was so shocked, before she knew what she was doing, she had raised her hand and given him a hard slap around the face. The sound echoed about the room. She regretted it the instant it happened, and she felt eyes in the room upon her. Ach, Morag will give me the boot after this!

"Ow! What was that fer?" Arne asked, rubbing the red hand mark she had left behind on his cheek.

"I'm nae fer sale. I'm nae a courtesan. I keep tellin' ye, if ye wat a lass fer the night ye must speak tae Morag," she told him in no uncertain terms. Though her heart was sinking, she felt she had nothing to lose now, since Morag would be furious with her for hitting a customer, and the laird's brother of all people.

"Is everythin' all right, Sir?" Of course, it was Morag. Raven steeled herself for the inevitable dismissal, afraid of what she would do if she had to leave the protection working at Mhairi's offered her. Ye should learn tae keep yer temper!

"Aye, fine. I insulted the lady without meanin' tae, and she put me right. It was a misunderstandin', that's all," Arne told the madam straight out. Raven stared at him in surprise, grateful for his admission.

"Well, if ye're happy about it, then I suppose that's all right," Morag replied. She glanced at Raven. "'Tis best tae refrain from slappin' the customers in future, Maeve. 'Tis nae good fer business."

"Sorry, Morag. I'll nae dae it again," she promised, hopeful of keeping her job.

"Apologize tae the customer, nae tae me," the madam said.

"Sorry, Sir," Raven muttered, afraid to meet Arne's eyes.

"Can I have a word with ye in private, Morag?" he asked.

Morag nodded. "Raven, go and get some more wine fer Lucy and her customer, will ye?" Raven did as she as told, and while she was at the sideboard, she saw the pair deep in conversation, each glancing her way now and then. She delivered the wine to Lucy and her man and was about to start clearing another table when Morag beckoned her back to Arne's.

"Ye can take the rest of the evenin' off. Arne here seems tae like yer company, so I want ye tae keep him entertained," the madam said quietly in her ear.

"What? What d'ye mean keep him entertained? I'm nae sleepin' with him," Raven whispered back urgently.

"He understands ye're nae fer sale. He's kens ye're but a maid. He says he's happy tae just talk and have dinner."

Raven looked at her questioningly. Morag just shrugged. "He's the customer, and the customer is always right, especially when he's paid fer the whole of the night," she said, giving Raven a wink as she moved off.

All this time, she was aware of Arne watching them. She wondered what his game was. But then he smiled that dazzling smile of his, and his silver-blue eyes danced with good humor as he got up and pulled out a chair for her.

"Will ye take a seat, Maeve?"

Unable to resist, after a brief moment of hesitation, she sat down. "Thank ye," she said as he pushed in her chair and resumed his seat. He leaned on his elbows and smiled across at her.

"What's goin' on?" she asked.

"What d'ye mean?" He looked genuinely puzzled.

"Ye ken what I mean. Customers in whorehouses dinnae usually pay fer the night just tae talk tae the maid. It seems very odd."

"Is that right? Well, ye clearly have more experience of these things that I dae. The last time I went tae a house of pleasure was on me fifteenth birthday when me big braither dragged me there as a present."

"So why are ye here now then?" she asked, puzzled and intrigued.

He shrugged. "I suppose I got a wee bit lonely. I felt like some company," he explained.

"I cannae imagine a man like ye has tae buy a woman fer the night."

His eyes widened, full of mirth. "A man like me? Now, what d'ye mean by that?"

Raven's cheeks flared hotly. She wished she had not said it, so she decided to change the subject. "Since I'm here fer the evenin', ye'd better tell me what ye'd like tae talk about?"

"How about Maeve Carter?"

Raven could not help but warm to him. He was not only beautiful to look at but seemingly charming and good-natured as well. She decided she might as well enjoy the evening. It was unlikely that it would be repeated. She gave herself up to the pleasure of his company. "That's a very boring subject, and it'll nae take up more than a minute or two."

"We'll see about that. How old are ye, Maeve?" he asked her as he poured her some wine.

"Twenty-one."

"D'ye come from around here?"

"Nay, from down south, near Tarbert. Me faither has a farm there," she lied with practiced ease.

"A farm lass, eh? How did ye come tae be here on Harris, workin' at house of pleasure as a maid?"

"I like tae travel, and I like workin' here. The pay's good, I get meals and board, and the people are a sort of family."

"And now, the most important question of all. D'ye ye ken how tae play chess?"

The question was so unexpected, Raven burst out laughing. She relaxed, suddenly feeling completely at ease in his company. He looked fearsome and intimidating, but she could tell his nature was warm and funny.

"Aye, I play. Why d'ye want tae ken?"

"Because I want tae play, of course. Why else?"

"Ye want tae play chess, with me?"

"Somethin' wrong with that?" he asked, his eyes dancing.

"I suppose nae. But I hope ye're nae a sore loser. I'm very good. Me braithers taught me."

"Well, well, ye sound very confident. Let's have a game or two then and see how good ye are."

She began laughing. "All right. I'll go and fetch the board." She got up and went over to one of the cupboards below the sideboard. There were several chess sets, packs of cards, and other gaming boards stowed there. She took a chess set and snatched up an extra goblet while she was there. Then she returned to the table and sat down. He began setting out the board.

"How about we make a small wager on the outcome," he suggested.

"All right," Raven agreed, seeing no harm in it. "I dinnae have much money though."

"I wasnae thinkin' of money," he replied, lining up the pawns.

"Oh? What then?" she asked curiously.

He finished placing the pieces on the board and looked her square in the eyes and said boldly. "How about if I win, we share a kiss?"

Raven's whole body tingled. "All right," she replied, unable to help returning his smile. "One kiss."

They began to play, and she played as badly as she could without being too obvious about it, for she had decided that this was one game she would be very happy to lose.